


My Home Is No Great Hall of Stone

by JEAikman



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3948529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Dain ficlet, because Dain needs more love. And I can't seem to write long things at the moment.</p><p>Title of the fic is from "The Iron Hills For Me" a song from determamfidd's Sansûkh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Home Is No Great Hall of Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sansûkh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/855528) by [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/pseuds/determamfidd). 



Dain had never wanted to be king of this thrice damned mountain – he had his own Hills, which he loved dearly. But there was no one else to do the job – not Dis, who had lost all she had left in the world to this mountain, no one could ask her to give it anything more. And not his Thorin, either. He was too young to be ruling anything, though Dain had been younger still when he took up his father’s Lordship.

 

So Dain accepted the crown and all the headaches that came with it, because after the glory and horror of battle, there must always be someone to clean up after it, to rebuild and restore what peace they might have. He was King Under The Mountain, a title he had never asked for or wanted, but one which was his now, nonetheless.

 

Still, he could not help when his heart wanted nothing more than to be away from these stuffy bejewelled and gold-gilded halls and breathe once more the air of the Iron Hills, and listen to the Redwater as it crashed past him. He often missed how much freer he was as simply a lord and not a king.

 

“Damn you, Thorin, for leaving me to clean up your messes.” He grumbled one day, visiting the tombs. “I dinnae half miss you, you daft heroic sod. Had to go and get yourself killed in a battle, aye? Always so dramatic. Y’ couldnae see a sunset wi’oot posin’ against it. Mahal’s forge, Thorin. I wisnae made fer this place, all this damned frippery.” He traced the engraved runes of Thorin’s name with thick and calloused fingers. “This is your home, cousin, not mine. But for your sake, and that of our family, I’ll keep it safe. I promise, cousin. I’ll defend your mountain for as long as I may live.”

 

And so Dain II, called Ironfoot, did, until his death in the Battle of Dale, defending the body of King Brand of Dale. But even so, he never forgot his love for his home in the Iron Hills, even as he lay dying for his cousin's beloved mountain.


End file.
